


The It Couple

by meggz0rz



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: All that wonderful nonsense, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, America's Sweethearts (2001 film), Angst and Humor, Dresses that cost more than cars, F/M, Gratuitous heavy metal references, Hollywood, Hollywood is a cesspool sometimes, Idea based on America's Sweethearts but veers off on its own very very quickly, Inuyasha is a dense idiot, Inuyasha is famous, Kagome is a cinnamon roll, Kagome is a metalhead cinnamon roll, Kikyou is famous, Miroku and Kagome are brOTP, Miroku and Sango are press agents, Multi, Power Plays, Sango is morally ambiguous, Unrequited love until it's not anymore, but he's trying dammit, but she's got her reasons for it, celebrity gossip, heavy metal Kagome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggz0rz/pseuds/meggz0rz
Summary: Kikyou and Inuyasha had it all. They were Hollywood royalty, an acting pair for the generations. And then they went bust, in epic fashion. But the Hollywood machine keeps rolling on. It's up to press agents Miroku and Sango, as well as Kikyou's lovelorn younger sister (and assistant) Kagome, to get The It Couple back together for the cameras in time for their new premiere! Yikes.





	1. You'll Get Wrinkles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our mains are introduced doing what they do best - trying to handle all their daily bullshit (or failing to handle it).

**The It Couple**

**Chapter One**

**You'll Get Wrinkles**

 

“Well, Sango, it’s been interesting.” There was a final slapping sound as a stack of random papers was tossed into a cardboard box. Miroku had a wry, humorless smile on his face as he threw an arm around his gigantic potted plant and stood, the contents of his former office piled into his arms.

  
Sango, trying and failing not to feel awkward and embarrassed, stood up from her computer, wringing her hands. “Mr. Houshi, sir, I just wanted to thank you for all these months of training. I’m sure wherever you’re going--”

  
Miroku cut her off, raising a hand as much as he could. The pile of clutter in his hands shifted awkwardly and he scrambled to readjust.

  
“Let’s not. You were a hell of an intern, kid, and you’ll be a hell of a press agent. You’ve got the full off-season to get comfortable before Christmas and Oscar season hit. Good luck to you.” The plant tipped precariously over his elbow.

  
Sango tried not to blush from the compliment. “Let me at least help you to your car, sir,” she said, starting forward to catch the plant.

  
He gave her a smirk and stepped backward. “No, no, it’s Hollywood tradition. When you get fired from a place after twelve years, you gotta do your walk of shame by yourself.”

  
“I’ve never heard of that tradition.”

  
“It’s not a tradition. I just made it up. Later, Sango. Don’t forget the press gala for ‘To Catch a Soul Stealer’ this Friday night, and Yura Kaminoke has been calling for a quote on Hiten Raimei’s latest girlfriend’s dress at the ‘Cool Hand Ryuko’ premiere. You know the one, where she wore only a velvet snake around her--yeah, I gotta go.” He disappeared out the side door with a resigned sigh.

  
Sango stood rooted to the spot, then ran a hand through her long brown hair and walked slowly to the now-empty walnut desk in the center of the small office space. Running her hands over its surface, she tried not to feel guilty at the excitement brewing in her stomach.

 

* * *

 

 

Miroku almost wished he had taken Sango up on her offer as he stumbled down the backlot alley, dodging extras and production assistants on golfcarts racing to different soundstages. _Ah, Hollywood_ , he thought. He was going to miss it.

  
Sango was a great girl, smart as a whip and quite capable of the job. She would grow into her role, as green as she was, and be a fantastic press agent for Sunrise Studios. No doubt there.

  
But where did that leave him? Stuck trying to find a job working for a shithole community theatre somewhere, passing out flyers on street corners, and all because he fell for the wrong woman.

  
Miroku tossed the box of memorabilia and the ficus into the backseat of his Benz and slammed the door. He was probably going to have to downgrade the car eventually, once the residuals from the studio payments ran out. That pissed him off. Working his ass off since he was a teenaged kid and there would be nothing to show for it, not in this town.

  
He climbed into the front seat and sat there, his jaw set forward defiantly. When a studio executive like Randall Warner wanted you out of his town, there was no getting around it. All of his old publicist friends weren’t even returning his calls.

  
“I need a fucking drink,” Miroku muttered, running a hand through his short, ponytailed hair and shoving his keys into the ignition.

  
The Mercedes roared off through the studio lots, though not as loudly or obnoxiously as he’d have liked. Damn hybrids.

 

* * *

 

 

Inuyasha Takahashi was feeling pretty damn good right now. Sure, he was drunk off his ass, with his arm around some blonde chick (“Candy-with-an-eye-eeeee”, she’d called herself), a pack of cigarettes gone, and probably a thousand-dollar bar bill, but he’d take it.

  
“How ‘bout it, Takahashi?” Kouga Okami, bad boy of film stars and fairly good friend in trying times, was looking at him devilishly, waggling his eyebrows, “One more round?”

  
Inuyasha removed his arm from “Candieeeeee” and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. His silver hair, a mark of his demonic heritage and long since his trademark, hung to his lower back, ruffling slightly in the wake of the dive bar’s electric fan.

  
“It’s on you this time, Kouga,” he said, “I’m outta quarters.”

  
“You’re on,” Kouga said, knocking fifty cents into the slot of the foosball table in a dramatic fashion, “Get us some more drinks over here!”

  
“I got it, I got it,” Inuyasha held up his hands and stumbled over to the bar, “Candieeeeee” having abandoned him to go sit down in the corner and pout into her makeup case.

  
“Another round of the same, please sir,” he slurred at the bartender, who was eyeing him warily.

  
“I’d say you’ve had enough, sir,” the barman said hesitantly.

  
Inuyasha’s eyes narrowed. “Listen here,” he said, pulling out his wallet, “You see this? This is an Amex Black Card. You know what it means?”

  
“I know what it means.”

  
“Can you read the name on here?”

  
“I know who you are, sir.”

  
“Oh, good,” Inuyasha said, flashing a charming smile, “That’s good. So one more round, how ‘bout it? I’ll go as far to buy another round for everyone in here.”

  
“Sir, I--”

  
“You hear that, everyone?” Inuyasha turned to the crowd inside, not a few of whom had been watching his every move since he’d walked into the joint a few hours before and several of whom immediately tried to hide the phones that had been taking pictures and videos of him, “Shots on me!”

  
There was a cheer from the bar patrons, and the bartender sighed and went to pull all the shot glasses he had from underneath the counter.

  
Inuyasha gave a sarcastic little wave to the crowd that was filming him, relishing the sheepish looks, and then looked down the long bar. This place would have been right at home in an eighties action movie, he thought. Dolph Lundgren sitting at the end, Stallone next to him, maybe even Steven Seagal if the place was desperate enough.

  
A man sitting in the far back corner caught his eye. He was in his early thirties, had a short black ponytail and one gold earring, and was obviously shitfaced. Well, so was Inuyasha, but more shitfaced.

  
“Miroku?” Inuyasha called, “Miroku Houshi? Holy shit!”

  
He bounded over and greeted him with a handshake. Miroku’s blue eyes were well and proper glazed over. Was that a joint in his hand? Inuyasha sniffed. Oh, yes, yes it was.

  
“How the hell are you,” Miroku said it as if it were a statement and not a question, motioning for Inuyasha to sit down, “Sorry about the mess.”

  
Inuyasha shoved a few empty beer bottles out of the way. “What are you doing here, man? It’s like three in the afternoon. I thought I was the only one making day drinking a sport; you read the papers. Hell, you almost _write_ the papers sometimes.”

  
“Hey man,” Miroku slurred, “That hit piece on you about the nervous breakdown had nothing to do with me. That was all Warner’s minions, stirring it up.”

  
Inuyasha folded his arms behind his head, a serene and winning smile on his face. “Even if it were, Houshi,” he said, “I am way too drunk to give a shit right now.”

  
“Takahashi! We playin’ or what?!” Kouga’s voice rang out from across the room. He was standing by the foosball table, looking a bit forlorn.

  
Inuyasha waved him off. “Hey, blondie! Kouga wants to play foosball with you!”

  
Candieeeeee stood up and teetered on six inch heels over to Kouga, who shot a look of venom at Inuyasha.

  
“What are you even doing _here_?” Miroku said, taking the shot the poor overburdened bartender was bringing, “You’ve got more money than God. Shouldn’t you be at the Wilshire or something?”

  
“Hey, I’ve gotta remain incognito while making an ass of myself.” Inuyasha downed the shot in a quick gulp.

Miroku glanced over Inuyasha’s shoulder at the crowd of filming patrons. “Yeah, doing a great job of that. How much have you had anyway?”

“Not enough.” _Never enough_ , Inuyasha thought.

  
The look of understanding Miroku flashed him was enough to make him feel oddly self-conscious for a man who was at various times the highest-grossing male movie star in the world.

  
_Time to deflect._

  
“You didn’t answer my question, Miroku. What are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

  
“I just got fired.”

  
“...oh.”

  
Miroku took another puff of his cigarette. “Replaced by my cute little female intern who’s all of twenty-five years old. After twelve goddamn years of service. Because Warner can’t handle a little jealousy.”

  
Inuyasha’s ears perked up. “Wait. Did you--”

  
“Yep. His fucking brand new wife from Slovenia. I had no clue. She acted like I was her saving grace, the one she’d been waiting for. What a crock. The second he threatened to cut her allowance she told him who I was. And here I am.”

  
“I always told you the ladies would be your downfall, man,” Inuyasha shook his head, “Acting like you’ve gotta be some great Casanova.”

  
Inuyasha’s expression darkened. “But then again, even the dream girls turn out to be nightmares.”

  
It was quiet for several moments, the rock music on the jukebox filling the silence between them.

  
“I’m sorry, man,” Inuyasha said finally.

  
“Me too,” Miroku replied.

  
“You wanna get outta here? I think Kouga’s got his hands full anyways.” Inuyasha gestured to the other end of the bar where Kouga was fighting to keep Candieeeeee’s hands out of his various bodily areas.

  
Inuyasha stood, strode to the counter, and tossed the Black Card at the bartender again. “Do you have a back exit?”

  
As the two men stumbled out into the still bright California sun, Inuyasha swore he heard Kouga calling him every name in the book.

 

* * *

 

 

“Kagooooooome!”

  
Kagome blinked her eyes open. She was sprawled on a lovely expensive mattress with lovely expensive pillows, wearing her favorite ratty Judas Priest tee shirt and some old boxer shorts. Where even were they again? _Oh right, San Diego. The morning show._

  
With a slight groan, she shoved herself up into a sitting position and glanced at the hotel alarm clock on the nightstand. 4:00 am. No point in even setting an alarm, she had her darling sister for that.

  
Grumbling, she tossed her long black hair over one shoulder and trudged into the room across the spacious hallway.

  
“Morning, Kikyou,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice cheerful.

  
Her elder sister sat at a pearl white vanity table, looking radiant as always even with her long hair in curlers and her face set in a horrible scowl.

  
“Better cut that face out,” Kagome joked, slipping her hands over her sister’s shoulders and patting once, “You’ll get wrinkles.”

  
“This isn’t a laughing matter, Kagome!” Kikyou snapped, staring straight into her mirror reflection but adjusting the stricken look on her face all the same, “Just look at this face!”

  
“I am,” Kagome said, crossing her arms with a yawn, “What’s the problem? Your call time for Morning News 5 isn’t for another two hours. You really should try to sleep a little more.”

  
Kikyou ignored this advice pointedly and continued as if Kagome hadn’t spoken. “Do you see this?!” she gestured at the slight shadows under her lower eyelids, “I can’t go on TV looking like the Crypt Keeper!”

  
“Sleep does help with that, sister dear.”

  
“And another thing,” Kikyou ranted, “I was going through my Instagram just now--”

  
“Oh God, here we go.”

 

“--and no matter what any of my photos say there’s always at least twenty comments about...about _him_!”

  
“Kikyou, I told you to just turn comments off if they bother you so much--”

  
“I can’t do that! It will decrease my followers! Does no one care that I don’t want to be with Inuyasha anymore? I just want to be left alone! I want to just scream at people, get a life!”

  
“That’s really not how it works at all--”

  
Kikyou burst into ugly sobs, dramatically throwing her face into her folded arms and sobbing into the vanity.

  
Kagome sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, then stepped behind her sister and slipped an arm around Kikyou’s shoulders. Kikyou kept histrionically sobbing.

  
“Kikyou, come on,” Kagome said gently, “It’s not that bad. I will admit, your squeaky clean image is a little tarnished now, but people forget eventually. You and Inuyasha just broke up three months ago.”

  
“Seven,” Kikyou’s voice was muffled.

  
“Well, three as far as the press and the public know. When you’re part of a public couple like that, folks are bound to be curious.”

  
“It’s all his fault,” Kikyou said into her arms, “Saying all that awful stuff about me to the press!”

  
“He didn’t say anything to the press, Kikyou,” Kagome gave her sister a gentle pat on the back.

  
“He didn’t deny anything either!”

  
“Well, what do you expect? Given the circumstances, I’d say he was pretty well-behaved about the whole thing, for someone who was heartbroken, anyway.”

  
“There you go!” Kikyou spat, shrugging away from Kagome’s touch and standing to pace dramatically around her luxurious suite in her white silk robe. Kagome called it “playing the queen” in her head but would never say so out loud.

  
“You’re always defending him! When he attacked my poor Naraku and screamed at me in a club full of people! When he didn’t deny anything when the press said I cheated on him!”

  
“You did cheat on him.”

  
“But he could have kept it quiet like a gentleman! You always take his side, Kagome. Just because the two of you had some weird friendship, you think I’m the bad guy!”

  
Kagome sighed, trying not to blush or get angry. At times like this, it was best to just let Queen Kikyou talk.

  
“If you had to choose between us, you’d pick him! Admit it!”

  
“Kikyou,” Kagome stood, face stoic and hands on her hips, “Stop crying, you’re going to be puffy for TV this morning.”

  
Immediately, Kikyou’s tears ceased and she ran back to the mirror, wiping the streaks off her face. “I need a mineral water, Kagome,” she said, her voice steady and back to business.

  
“Right away,” Kagome said, and she strode out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

“Listen,” Inuyasha said, a fresh shirt on and a glass of fine whiskey in hand, “I think I’ve got your problem solved. I’ll hire you as my personal publicist.”

  
Miroku sat on the leather couch of Inuyasha’s living room, a room that would not have looked out of place in any five-star hotel. He was holding his own drink, and smoking another cigarette. That was four so far today. He was going to kill himself. Better smoke two at once.

  
“Inuyasha, I appreciate the offer, but--”

  
“No, no, no, listen. You’re the best. I want the best. Hell, like you said, I’m richer than God, right? I can afford you.”

  
“I’ve never worked for just one client before,” Miroku said slowly.

  
“How hard can it be? Just make me into a perfect angel for the press.” That statement ended with a chuckle under his breath as he took another swig of whiskey, “Whatever the studio paid you, I’ll match it.”

  
“I seriously doubt that.”

  
“Okay, but I’ll come close. Honestly, buddy, we’ve been friends for a long time, and you’d be doing me as much of a favor as I’d be doing you one.”

  
Miroku’s eyes lit up. “Ohhhh,” he said sagely, “You want me to come onboard for ‘The Red Robe’ premiere.”

  
“It’s not just that.”

  
“Isn’t it?”

  
“Okay, that’s a huge part of it,” Inuyasha ran a hand through his long silver mane of hair, “But I don’t think I can get through it on my own. I mean, hell, we completed shooting six months ago. I haven’t even seen her since then. I have to play nice with her for this damn premiere at Christmastime, and even before then we have a whole slew of press bullshit to slog through. I can’t go it alone. I need someone I can trust.”

  
“Inuyasha, you have a publicist already.”

  
“Fucking _Totosai?!_ ” Inuyasha snapped, “The guy who introduced me to Kikyou? Who said it would be a great idea for my career to date my costar?”

  
Miroku sniffed. “In all fairness, it _was_ a great idea for your career.”

  
There was a heavy silence. Inuyasha’s annoyance looked on the verge of turning to rage. That temper of his was legendary.

  
With a sigh, Miroku took another sip of his drink. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m thinking like a press agent again. We are notoriously without souls.”

  
Inuyasha took a swig of his drink again, obviously content to let the conversation move on. “So will you do it?”

  
Miroku stood, still wobbly after who-knows-how-many drinks in the middle of the afternoon, and crossed the large room toward his friend, glass held aloft.

  
“I’ll do it.”

  
Their glasses clinked together hard enough to shatter.

  
“Aw, shit. Hold on, let me call the maid. _Nazuna!_ ”


	2. The Hangover Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kagome and Kikyou hit the morning show circuit, and Miroku starts his new job with gusto.

**The It Couple**

**Chapter Two**

**The Hangover Special**

 

“Welcome back to Morning News 5, everyone. I’m Anne Varren, and I’m sitting here with the one, the only, Kikyou Higurashi!”

  
There were cheers and applause. Kikyou gave her cute little wave and wink combo that always got the job done. “Thank you for having me, Anne!” she said.

  
From her little stool offstage, Kagome sat legs crossed, reading another trashy paperback novel about dukes and long-lost princesses and the like. She yawned. _Coulda used another two hours of sleep_ , she thought as she turned the page.

  
“So Kikyou, big year for you!” The morning news reporter leaned forward in her chair, red-nailed fingers clasped together gleefully.

  
“It was, wasn’t it?” Kikyou’s smile slipped a little, but probably only Kagome caught it.

  
“How’s life at home?”

  
“Oh, you know, very busy,” Kikyou said, “I feel like I’m always filming, so it’s been nice to take a few months off and get myself a little more centered.”

  
“And now you’re back with your new film, ‘The Red Robe,’ in theatres this Christmas, just in time for Oscar season. Do you think this year will be your comeback, Kikyou?”

  
Kagome winced, holding up her book to hide her expression.

  
Kikyou gingerly flipped her long black hair and gave her winning smile. “Oh, Anne, I dislike the word ‘comeback.’ I never left! I just needed some time off. I’m sure you can understand that!”

  
“Of course I can,” Anne replied, returning the smile, “Of course, this is also a killer role for your co-star and former fiance, Inuyasha. Have you spoken to him recently?”

  
“Here we go,” Kagome said, clapping the open book over her face.

  
Kikyou looked genuinely shocked for half a second but recovered impeccably. “I actually, er, still talk to him all the time. We remain the closest of friends. I’m sure whatever comes this awards season will be well-deserved!”

  
Kagome fought the pang in her chest and momentarily glanced toward the phone in her jacket pocket.

  
Anne looked positively delighted by the news. “That’s wonderful to hear!” she exclaimed, “You heard it here first, folks, Inuyasha and Kikyou are still friends even after all that’s happened!”

  
The audience cheered. Kikyou smiled, eating it all up. Kagome sank down further in her seat and felt like she needed another shower.

  
Her phone buzzed, and she sprang to pick it up, even though she knew it wouldn’t be who she wanted it to be.

  
“Hello?”

  
_“Kagome Higurashi, please.”_

  
“Speaking.”

  
_“Good morning, Kagome. I hope I haven’t caught you too early.”_

  
“Oh, no,” Kagome said, tossing her paperback book in her purse and walking toward the rear of the studio, “Morning show circuit has us all up at dawn these days. Who is this, please?”

  
_“Kagome, my name is Sango Ryoshi. I’m the new lead press agent for Sunrise Studios.”_

  
_What the hell happened to Miroku?_ Kagome wondered.

  
Sango continued. _“Since we’re at the end of September, I think we need to talk about the rollout for ‘Red Robe’ and all that will come with that.”_

  
“That’s fine,” Kagome said, all business, “Should I schedule a lunch for all of us to meet? You, me, Kikyou, to go over all the junket dates and premieres?”

  
_“I was actually wondering if you two are free this afternoon.”_

  
“Well, we’re heading to the Bev Hills house today after we finish up here. Do you have the address?”

  
There was a sound of scrambling on the other line, the sound of desk drawers being opened and shut. _“...I don’t, I’m sorry. I think my predecessor...took all of the personal contact info with him.”_ Sango seemed to be bracing for an earful from her.

  
Kagome smirked. She wasn’t that kind of assistant. “I’ll text it to this number for you. Shall we say 3 pm? Oh, also, Kikyou’s gluten-free and dairy-free, so unless you like eating nothing but raw kale, I’ll get the chef to make something different for us. Do you like swordfish?”

 

* * *

 

 

“God, she is unbelievable,” Inuyasha muttered, scrolling through his news app, cup of black coffee in hand.

  
Miroku only groaned, shaking a packet of headache powder into a glass of water. “Stop looking her up, then.”

  
“You of all people should know that I don’t have to look her up for her to be fucking _everywhere_ ,” Inuyasha snapped.

  
They were sitting at the breakfast nook in Inuyasha’s luxe Beverly Hills mansion, Miroku nursing the hangover to end all hangovers and Inuyasha feeling only slightly sluggish. Drinking was easier when it was all you did lately.

  
Nazuna, a cute girl in her mid-twenties, was throwing together what Inuyasha called the “Hangover Special” - a bagel sandwich with thick-cut ham and bacon, cheese, and egg. She placed the plates gingerly in front of the two men.

  
“Thanks, Nazuna.” Inuyasha flashed his million-dollar grin, and the maid blushed and smiled back before exiting the kitchen.

  
Inuyasha took a huge bite of his sandwich. Nazuna was a hell of a cook, but this wasn’t the way he remembered this tasting. It was Kagome who used to make them for him, back when all of them had lived together…

  
He wondered how she was. He hadn’t heard from her since the night he and Kikyou finally ended it all, and probably with good reason. Kikyou was her sister, after all, and all friendships were out the window when it came to siding with family.

  
“Inuyasha?” Miroku had been talking to him and was staring at him with a puzzled look.

  
“Hm?”

  
“I just got a text from Sango, asking me to call her.”

  
“And who the hell is Sango.”

  
“My intern, the one who got my job when I got canned? Maybe Warner’s seen the light and wants to welcome me back with open arms.”

  
Inuyasha raised an eyebrow. “You really think so?”

  
“Not at all. Hold on, I better take this.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Mr. Houshi?”_

  
“Sango, we’ve been over this. You can call me Miroku. How can I help you so soon? Having trouble adjusting to the new job?”

  
The tone of the voice on the other end was flat and clipped. _“No. You took the company phone with you when you left. The one with all the contact info.”_

  
Miroku’s hand slipped into his jacket pocket and closed around another phone. “...oh.”

  
_“If you could meet me somewhere near Bev Hills and return it to me as soon as possible, please.”_ Her voice was all business; he hadn’t remembered Sango ever sounding this sure of herself. It was kind of hot.

  
“Why don’t we meet for dinner somewhere? I know a great little sushi place on--”

  
_“That won’t be necessary. I’m having a late lunch with Kikyou Higurashi and her sister today.”_

  
“Wow, you work fast. The awards season rollout isn’t for another month and you’re already going over game plans?”

  
_“I like to be prepared ahead of time, as you may remember.”_ She sounded eager to get the conversation over with.

  
“Well then, you’re just the woman I need to speak to,” Miroku said, putting a suave edge to his voice, “You’re talking to Inuyasha Takahashi’s new publicist.”

  
There was silence over the other end, then a flat _“What.”_

  
“Yeah, he and I are old friends, Sango. I’m sure that was mentioned to you at some point. Guess that means you and I are gonna be spending a lot of time together this season. We have a whole Oscar campaign to plan. Better get comfortable.”

  
_“Weren’t unemployed long, were you?”_

  
Miroku smirked. “Sweetheart, I’m the best. There was bound to be someone begging for my services.”

  
_“Anyway, the phone?”_ she said, annoyance creeping through the other line, _“Can you meet me sometime early this afternoon? The corner of--”_

  
“You know, Sango,” he said, stretching and yawning, “I actually can’t today. Why don’t you call me again tomorrow and I’ll get it to you then. From the sound of things, we’ll need to be arranging a meeting between you and my client as well. Gotta ensure the press coverage gets equal share between them, you know. Otherwise, how am I going to keep him obscenely rich and well-paid?”

  
_“Mr. Houshi--”_

  
“Sorry, I don’t answer to that anymore, Sango. Gotta go. See you soon!”

  
Click. Miroku tried not to feel too proud of himself.

  
“God, you are a bastard, aren’t you,” Inuyasha muttered through a mouthful of sandwich.

 

* * *

 

 

Kagome always relished getting to come home. Seemed like when a movie needed to be promoted they were always on the road, so these few days where she got to sleep in her own bed were pretty much holy days in her mind. As they walked through the front door, Kagome carrying about five bags of luggage while Kikyou carried the dog leash of the pomeranian, she fought the urge to just fling the bags of expensive clothes and shoes on the nearest imported French furniture and kick her feet up. An assistant’s job was never done, after all; Kikyou was not about to unpack herself.

  
Kikyou let the leash drop and the dog tottered off to the doggy door immediately. “Naraku!” she called, “We’re home!”

  
There was a sound from the home gym area of weights clinking, and Naraku appeared, sweaty as usual, a towel draped around his shoulders.

  
“There’s my little minx,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows as he scooped Kikyou up in a bridal carry. Kikyou giggled and threw her arms around his neck.

  
“Oh, honey, I missed you,” Kikyou murmured, kissing him on the cheek.

  
“I saw you on TV this morning,” Naraku said, “You looked gorgeous.”

  
Kikyou squeezed him tighter. “If only they’d stop asking me about _him_.”

  
Naraku then bent Kikyou over and gave her a hell of a kiss, so much so that Kagome felt her own cheeks burning.

  
“Babe,” Naraku said huskily, “Don’t even worry about him. I’m here to protect you in case he tries to attack you again.”

  
_Attack?_ Kagome busied herself with dragging the luggage to the bedroom door. _Since when does catching your fiancee redhanded smooching someone else in a club, and confronting her verbally, constitute an attack?_

  
Her phone buzzed. It was Miroku Houshi. She hadn’t talked to him in--god, six months? Not since…

  
She’d call him back.

  
“Kikyou,” she called. Kikyou didn’t answer. Too busy pawing all over her beefcake boyfriend.

  
“Kikyou,” she tried again.

  
“What?” Kikyou whined, releasing Naraku and turning around. Naraku didn’t even acknowledge Kagome.

  
“We have a late lunch with Sango Ryoshi today. She’s the new press agent for Sunrise. She’ll be here at--”

  
“Gawwwwd,” Kikyou said, “Do I have to?”

  
Whenever she pulled that tone, Kagome would have traumatic flashbacks to every school function, every after-school hobby, every boyfriend in high school that Kikyou wanted to break up with. It had always meant that their mother would turn to Kagome and expect her to take care of it for her perfect older sister. And Kagome always had. Ever the faithful assistant.

  
“Yeah, you kinda do. She’s the one who’s designing our whole Oscar season campaign, after all. You’ll need to talk to her to get on the same page.”

  
“Did they say anything about Supporting Actor campaigns?” Naraku interrupted.

  
_Well, hey there, Naraku, nice to acknowledge your existence too._ “Not that I know of, but feel free to ask her about it.” Kagome put on her most polite smile.

  
Kikyou folded her arms, looking every inch the movie goddess she was. “What time is she coming over?”

  
“3 pm. I’ll talk to Kaede and get something delicious planned. We need to make a good impression, after all, since we’ve never met her.”

  
“Fine. You take care of it.” And with that, Kikyou’s attention was back to Naraku, and Kagome gave a half-hearted little nod and continued dragging her sister’s immense bags to the master bedroom.

  
“Kagome, do that later. I’ll be needing some privacy.” Kikyou swished past her, hand in hand with Naraku.

  
Kagome held up her hands in defeat and retreated to her own bedroom.

  
Naraku, for all his quirks, was certainly good for one thing - a few hours’ break for her.


	3. You Know, Hollywood People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a fateful reunion is arranged, and Kagome's old crush starts to flare up once again.

**The It Couple**

**Chapter Three**

**You Know, Hollywood People**

 

The headline was covered in bright pink banners, flashing obnoxiously. God, these celebrity gossip websites were fucking eyesores. Inuyasha stared down at his phone, his face impassive.

  
_“‘WE’RE STILL FRIENDS,’ SAYS KIKYOU, KIKYASHA FANS REJOICE!”_

  
_Kikyasha,_ he thought, _they always have to make a fucking nickname of it._

  
Still friends. What that girl wouldn’t say to get a little bit of public adoration. He had to admire it, really. It was why she was where she was after all this time.

  
“You saw this, right?” he said, showing the phone to Miroku, who was frowning at his own.

  
“That’s odd,” Miroku said as if he hadn’t heard, “She usually always picks up right away.”

  
“Who?”

  
“Kagome.”

  
Inuyasha almost choked on the last bite of his sandwich. “Kagome? You’re calling _Kagome?_ Now? Here?”

  
Miroku gave him a pointed look. “You look surprised. I’m going to have to talk to Kagome at some point, you know. She handles all of Kikyou’s scheduling, her outfit fittings, everything. I don’t know how she does it, really, it’s the job of like five people--”

  
“I know what she does, Miroku. I’ve known her since she was a teenager, remember?”

  
“Well, then you also know we’re all going to have to meet together at some point soon.”

  
“I have another thought,” Inuyasha said, “How about fuck that?”

  
“Don’t be an idiot. You have a job to do and it’s my job to make sure you can do yours.”

  
“Yeah, apparently my job is to air my dirty laundry out there for every Tom, Dick, and Jane to lap up.” Inuyasha’s fists clenched on the tabletop.

  
“Part of the biz, my friend. If you want, we can meet Kagome by herself first. Kind of ease our way back in.”

  
Seeing Kagome again would be amazing, for sure. But would she even want to see him? This whole breaking-up-with-her-beloved-elder-sister thing might have put a damper on even a friendship like they had had.

  
_“Stupid idiot! Give me that controller! It’s left-down-right-down B!”_

  
_“Inuyasha! Wait your turn! Show-off!”_

  
He smiled lightly to himself, then returned his attention to the conversation at hand.

  
“Yeah. Sounds good.”

  
Miroku stared at him for a second, his expression unreadable, then pressed the redial button.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello?”

  
_“Kagome, darlin, I thought maybe you were ignoring me.”_

  
Kagome grinned, reaching up with her remote to pause her movie. “Miroku? It’s so great to hear your voice!”

  
_“Likewise. How have you been?”_

  
“Oh, you know,” Kagome said, “Same old me.”

  
_“How’s our leading lady?”_

  
Kagome scoffed. “Same old Kikyou.”

  
_“I figured as much. What are you doing tonight?”_

  
“Tonight? Well, Kikyou and Naraku are going out to Greystone Manor so I guess I’m doing that.” She dangled her legs over the edge of her squishy, comfortable bed.

  
_“Oh no you aren’t. You’re coming out with us tonight.”_

  
Kagome grimaced. “I don’t really know about that, Miroku. You know how Kikyou gets. What if she needs something while she’s out?”

  
_“So get her a babysitter. She’s a grown-ass woman, Naraku can handle her for the night. As long as she pays for his drinks, I’m sure.”_

  
She stifled a giggle. “I really don’t think she’ll let me go, but thanks anyway.”

  
_“Kagome,”_ Miroku’s flirtatious tone continued, as it always did, _“You’ve known me for years now. Do I ever take no for an answer? Besides, Inuyasha wants to see you.”_

  
The pit of her stomach seemed to drop away. Kagome had never been so thankful that no one could see her face; it was surely beet-red right now.

  
“You’re with _Inuyasha?_ ”

  
_“Yeah, you wanna talk to him?”_ There was a shuffling noise while the phone was passed.

  
_Holy shit holy shit holy shit._ Kagome was dimly aware that she was now self-consciously tucking her hair behind her ears and smoothing it down.

  
_“Hello?”_

  
And there he was. Could he hear the blood pounding in her ears, she wondered.

  
“Inuyasha,” she said softly, “It’s been a long time.”

  
_“Too long,”_ he agreed cheerfully, _“Still hate me?”_

  
There was an awkward silence as Kagome fought to find words to respond to that.

  
_“Well, I guess that answers that question,”_ Inuyasha’s voice hadn’t lost its cheery edge, _“Still, I hope you’ll come out with us tonight. Even if just for old times’ sake--”_  
There was a shattering noise on the other end. Inuyasha swore. _“God dammit, Miroku, who the hell puts their glass of water on the rim of the fucking table--sorry Kagome, gotta go, see you tonight--this is the second glass you’ve broken and you’ve been in my house less than twelve hours--”_

  
The ranting faded out and Miroku was back. _“Did that convince you enough, sweetheart?”_ His voice was low, obviously so Inuyasha wouldn’t hear him.

  
“I hate you so much,” Kagome muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Alright, you win. I’ll meet you. Where?”

  
_“Hyde Lounge, West Hollywood.”_

  
“Well, I’m glad we’re not going too fancy,” Kagome muttered with a roll of her eyes, “See you around 10.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello, Miss Higurashi, it’s an honor to meet you,” Sango began, trying not to sound like another star-struck fan even though she had probably seen all of this woman’s movies at least twice. A star through and through, Kikyou Higurashi had started as a teenage actress in soaps and had blossomed into the most in-demand A-lister of the last five years; that is, if you didn’t count her former counterpart Inuyasha’s similar career trajectory.

  
Kikyou was dressed smartly but stylishly in jeans and a silk blouse. She looked like the sort of woman who would never dream of leaving the house without being dressed to the nines.

  
“Always nice to meet another studio rep,” Kikyou said, her voice gentle and sweet, “I owe a lot of my success to Sunrise, as you may well know.”

  
“I do indeed,” Sango said, trying to sound more capable than she felt and knowing that the reason Kikyou’s eyes had widened upon seeing her was because of how young she looked.

  
“Shall we? Our chef Kaede outdid herself for you today! Swordfish and roasted vegetables,” Kikyou slipped Sango’s arm around hers and led her meanderingly through the palacious house. Sango tried not to stare at all the furnishings; each piece was probably more than she made in six months.

  
“You’ll forgive me if I skip the main course,” Kikyou continued, motioning for Sango to sit down at a dining table that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a medieval castle, “I’m afraid I’ve been on a juice cleanse for the past few weeks.”

  
“Of course,” Sango said, “Your sister already informed me.”

  
“Where is that girl?” Kikyou mused, then yelled, “ _Kagooooome!_ ”

  
Sango winced slightly.

  
“Coming!” Kagome Higurashi rushed into the room. She was probably a few years younger than Kikyou, but they were definitely related. Where Kikyou’s beauty was all cheekbones and waiflike elegance, Kagome was a few inches shorter, with large doe-like eyes and hair so wavy it almost curled at the ends. She was wearing her own jeans, acid-washed these were, and a cute little cut-off tank. _A tomboy_ , Sango mused.

  
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Kagome.” Kagome thrust out her hand. Her smile was genuinely friendly, unlike the serene smile of her famous sister.

  
“Sango. We spoke on the phone earlier. Nice to put a face to the voice.”

  
“Who is this?” A male voice muttered from behind Sango, and she turned to see a tall, muscular man with long, dark hair walking in, covered in sweat.

  
“Naraku, honey, this is the new press agent for Sunrise, Sango Ryogi. She’s here to talk about the awards season with us.”

  
“It’s Ryoshi, actually,” Sango said softly.

  
“Oh,” Naraku’s eyes seemed to light up, and he flopped into a chair at the dining table unceremoniously, “Have you started discussing the Oscar pushes yet?”

  
“Naraku, sweetheart,” Kikyou said lovingly, placing a hand over her beau’s, “She just got here. Let her at least eat first.”

  
Kagome caught Sango’s eye across the table and winked. Sango gave a small smile in return. This girl seemed very approachable.

  
A small, squat old woman hobbled in, balancing a large tray of food. The dishes clattered precariously.

  
“Kaede, let me get that,” Kagome exclaimed, jumping up to take the tray from her, “You already worked so hard today.”

  
Sango watched the old woman’s expression, and it was one of pure adoration.

  
“Kaede, I need some water. Room temperature, no ice.” Kikyou didn’t look up from Naraku’s hand, which she was paying all the attention in the world.

  
Kaede nodded wordlessly, and turned back through the swinging kitchen door.

  
Kagome sighed and sat the tray on the tabletop. Kaede had indeed outdone herself, as Kikyou had said. The swordfish and vegetables looked fantastic.

  
Sango took her plate and hesitated. Was this like royalty protocol? Did she have to wait for Kikyou to eat before she--

  
“Go ahead,” Kagome said, obviously a psychic and a mind reader, “Kikyou will probably just pick at hers.”

  
“Kagome, please,” Kikyou said, her face smiling but her eyes stern, “You’re embarrassing me.”

  
Kagome just gave a wry smile and shot Sango a wink when no one was looking.

  
“So I think the first thing to discuss is the Hollywood Film Awards,” Sango said quickly, pulling her small, leather-bound planner out of her bag, “As you know, they’re the first in the line, and not extremely important as far as earmarkers for Oscar noms go, but still--”

  
“Excuse me, Sango,” Kikyou’s serene smile hadn’t moved from her face, “I think you’ll find this isn’t my first time doing this.”

  
Sango fought back a blush. “O-of course, of course,” she tried to recover, “I was just--”

  
“The Hollywood Film Awards are nothing. Small-time. If I win, of course I’ll post a short video on Instagram and Twitter saying how grateful I am, but I’m not getting all dressed up to hear another drunken speech by old Hollywood has-beens.”

  
Sango glanced at Kagome, who was giving her a sympathetic smile.

  
“It’s the December awards we want to start with,” Kagome said gently, “The New York and L.A. Film Critics ones. If we do it like we did two years ago, we’ll do one and not the other. We don’t want to look too eager to the press. Isn’t that right, Kikyou?”

  
Kikyou shrugged, looking bored with the whole thing and taking a tiny bite of carrot.

  
“And then January is big - Critics’ Choice, People’s Choice, SAG Awards, and of course the Globes. We’re expecting a nomination from the Globes for sure, and we’re hopeful about the others. Of course, we’ll know more in December.

  
“And then of course February - the biggie. Good ol’ Oscar.” Kagome grinned.

  
Kikyou looked at Kagome pointedly. “Why do I need to be here for this?”

  
Before Kagome could respond, Kikyou turned back to Sango, her smile gone. “Are you here to talk to me or her?”

  
Sango stammered. “Well, both, I mean--I think both of you are helpful--”

  
“Tell you what. I am exhausted, everyone in the press hates me right now, and I’ve gone a full year without an award nomination. Get it done. Talk to her.” Kikyou threw her thumb over her shoulder at Kagome, who was suddenly very interested in her roast veggies.

  
And with that, the most famous actress in the entire world stood up from the table and stalked off to the garden.

  
Naraku took a final bite of his swordfish, pulling the bones out with his teeth. “There, now, you see? You pissed her off. Thanks to you I have to go calm her down. Studio publicist, my ass.” He shoved his chair back and tossed his fork to the table with a clatter, then left as well.

  
Sango sat there stunned. _What the hell just happened? Man, these people turn on a dime._

  
Kagome stood to collect the dirty plates, her face resigned.

  
“I’m awfully sorry,” Sango said softly, “I don’t know what I just did wrong.”

  
Kagome stopped, leaving the stack on the table surface. “You did nothing wrong,” she said insistently, “You’ll just find a lot of that attitude in this town. No patience for anyone who’s not straight to the point. They’re rich and spoiled and forget how to treat people. Hell, I should know. She’s my sister.”

  
Sango shoved her planner back into her purse, feeling her face redden. “I’m very new at doing this all on my own. Miroku used to handle all the stars directly.”

  
“I know,” Kagome said, coming around to put a hand on Sango’s shoulder, “From now on, just talk to me. My phone’s always on and I’m here to help.”

  
Sango wondered if jumping up and hugging this girl would be unprofessional. Probably so.

  
“Listen, I’m actually going out on my own tonight for the first time in forever. I’ve got to meet an old, old friend who you should probably meet too, and if it’s not too much trouble, maybe you can come with me. We’re going to the Hyde Lounge.”

  
“The-the Hyde Lounge?” Sango said, “I think that’s a little rich for my blood.”

  
“Mine too,” Kagome said with a giggle, “but hey, think of it like we’re actresses playing a part. You know, Hollywood people.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I still don’t know why you picked this place,” Inuyasha muttered, keeping his head lowered as he leaned back against the crocodile-embossed velvet booth, “I prefer places where there aren’t lines of autograph hounds trying to get photos outside.”

  
“The reason I picked this place should be obvious,” Miroku said, nodding across the velvet ropes where various babes in bandage dresses and stilettos were standing around, enjoying their buzzes and whispering to themselves at the sight of both of them.

  
Inuyasha had his hair in a low braid and a knit cap on his head, but there was no hiding when your look was that distinctive. He sighed. “Did you at least tell the doorman about the girls?”

  
“Which girls?”

  
“Kagome and her friend she’s bringing. What the hell do you mean which girls--you schmuck.”

  
“Surely they’d just let Kagome in. She looks enough like a poor man’s Kikyou Higurashi to be an asset to their business.” Miroku took a drag of his smoke and a sip of his whiskey.

  
Inuyasha fought back a growl and stood up to skulk toward the front entrance, shoving his way through the crowd of girls.

  
It’s times like these I understand why even Schwarzenegger has a bodyguard, he mused as the girls squealed and clamored for his attention.

  
“Scuse me, ladies,” he said, fighting to keep his voice civil as he pushed through.

  
The doorman was arguing with some reality show stars who were pulling the old don’t-you-know-who-I-am. Inuyasha clapped a gentle hand over his shoulder. When the reality TV thespians caught sight of him, their jaws dropped open and they fell completely silent.

  
“There are two girls coming to meet us. I’d be appreciative if you just let them in without incident or drawing too much attention. Send them right to VIP.” He held up a folded $100 bill in two fingers.

  
The doorman accepted gladly. “How will I know who they are?”

  
“If anyone asks to see me, ask them which Judas Priest album is the best one.”

  
“And what’s the answer?”

 

* * *

 

 

“How is that even a question?” Kagome said, grinning, “‘Sad Wings of Destiny’ wins every time!”

  
“Right this way, ladies,” the doorman said, “Straight up the stairs to the VIP loft.”

  
Kagome was definitely uncomfortable in her blue lace dress and heels, but she had to admit, getting all dolled up once in a while could be fun. There were even a few stares on the street when she and Sango walked by. No doubt people thinking for a split second that she was Kikyou.

  
“Who is Judas Priest?” Sango asked quietly as they ascended the staircase.

  
“Our favorite band,” Kagome replied, trying to keep the wistful tone out of her voice and failing.

  
“Our?” Sango said, then stopped short, dead still, eyes wide.

  
Kagome turned, holding her breath.

  
There he was.


	4. Speaking My Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an adorable friendship is rekindled, and a morally dubious plan is hatched.

**The It Couple**

**Chapter Four**

**Speaking My Language**

 

Kagome fought back the urge to grin like a drooling idiot and run up to him. That was what silly idiot fangirls do, and she’d known this man since she was all of fifteen years old. He had been almost family at one point, almost…

  
_Almost married to my sister._

  
With a slight shake of her head, Kagome did her best to keep her walk steady as she waited for the guard to unclip the velvet rope and let her and Sango into the VIP area.

  
“Kagome!” Miroku said, a cigarette dangling from his lip and five-o-clock stubble betraying him as a little disheveled. He stood and grabbed her in a bear hug, lifting her a few inches off the ground. She laughed and hugged back. Inuyasha hadn’t moved from his seat; he was just looking at her.

  
“Good to see you, Miroku,” she said, “and I brought Sango to meet--Sango?”

  
Sango was still standing at the room’s entrance, looking scandalized and embarrassed. Kagome had thought it was because she was in the presence of the great and perfect Inuyasha, but realized immediately that she was staring straight at Miroku.

  
“Oh _great_ ,” Miroku said when his eyes followed Kagome’s gaze, and he downed the rest of his drink.

  
“Houshi,” Sango said, her voice steady and her face steely, “How about that company phone now that we’ve seen each other?” She strode up to the table and sat down. _Amazing how her confidence can just flip like that when she’s on a mission,_ Kagome thought.

  
“I, uh, don’t have it on me,” Miroku said, staring at his empty glass sheepishly.

  
“Well, _this_ is awkward,” Kagome said with a grin as she sat down, then she realized she’d just placed herself right next to Inuyasha, who as of yet hadn’t said a word.

  
She placed both hands on the table and stared at her dark blue nail polish.

  
“Drink orders, ladies?” The cocktail waitress was scantily clad and staring at both men rather than at the women to whom she was speaking.

  
“Cuba Libre, please,” Kagome said.

  
Sango raised a single eyebrow, her eyes still on Miroku. “How about a bottle of Dom?” she said, “On _him?_ ” She pointed at the black-haired man still standing across from her. Miroku grimaced, then looked to the waitress and nodded with a weak smile.

  
“That’s for two?” the waitress asked expectantly.

  
“No, four. Full bottle service please,” Miroku seemed to recover instantly and took it all in stride, “Sango’s right. It’s not a party without champagne!”

  
Kagome smiled; Sango did not.

  
“Inuyasha, aren’t you going to say anything? You’re being a real stick in the mud, man,” Miroku eased his way back into the booth.

  
Kagome glanced at Inuyasha to her left and found him looking right back at her, his face betraying a serene smile.

  
“How are you, Inuyasha?” Kagome began, and then he immediately grinned and grabbed her somewhat roughly around the shoulders, pulling her in for a side hug.

  
“Good to see you, kiddo,” he said, and she fought the blush for what would be the first of many, many times this evening, no doubt.

  
Immediately, Miroku stood up and reached for Sango’s hand, which she snatched back. “Sango, I suppose I should talk to you about getting you that contact info back. Come over to the second table and we’ll discuss it.”

  
Sango’s eyes narrowed, then she looked at Kagome questioningly, then back at Miroku with a slightly less angry expression. “Okay, fine.”

  
And they were alone at the table, Kagome sitting next to the man who had very nearly been her brother-in-law as of less than a year ago. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear demurely.

  
Inuyasha was watching the waitress prepare bottle service behind the bar, obviously appreciating her shapely frame. “How’s your sister?”

  
Kagome jumped slightly. “Fine,” she said, “Kikyou’s just fine.”

  
“Still with that asshat?”

  
“She is. He lives with us now.”

  
The expression in Inuyasha’s eyes darkened but the smile remained. “I read that in the papers, but I learned long ago to not put much stock in the papers.” The hand closed around his drink tightened enough to quiver the ice cubes.

  
There was a pronounced silence despite the thrumming of the club music downstairs.

  
Finally Kagome could bear it no longer. “I’m sorry for not calling or texting,” she cried, turning in her seat to properly face him, the words tumbling out in waves, “I should have been there for you during all this--”

  
“She’s your sister, Kagome. You had no choice.”

  
Kagome shook her head. “I did have a choice. You were my friend. I was going to text you, but by the time I worked up the courage it was already so long, and--”

  
“Hey,” Inuyasha said, holding up a hand, “Stop it, already. Always trying to fix everybody, that’s your problem. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself. Don’t worry about it.”  
Kagome’s mouth closed gently, and she managed a meek smile. “I’m glad to see you now,” she said. _If only you knew how much._

  
“Likewise, kiddo,” he said, ruffling her hair, then looking bemused at the texture, “What do you have in here, glue?”

  
“Hey!” she said, slapping his hand away, “This shit took forever! You try getting hair that’s permanently wild to lie flat once in awhile!”

  
She felt her phone buzz through her purse. She ignored it.

 

* * *

 

 

“They seem to be back to normal,” Miroku mused, holding his champagne glass aloft, his elbows on the table.

  
Sango took a sip from her own glass. “What’s the story there?”

  
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t tell me you don’t read gossip magazines; they’re our bread and butter in this line of work.”

  
“I mean, I _know_ what happened with him and Kikyou Higurashi,” Sango said, exasperated, “but I thought it was a fairly friendly breakup. I mean, there were the cheating rumors on her part, but there always are. I figured they just fizzled out.”

  
Miroku laughed out loud. “Hoooo boy, hope you’re ready for this.”

  
He scooted around in the booth so he was sitting right next to her. Sango fought the urge to scoot away, but then he leaned in close conspiratorially. He smelled of expensive cologne and smoke and whiskey. _Not altogether unpleasant_ , she thought. _Focus, girl, he’s your ex-boss and he’s kind of a shit._

  
“So you know all about ‘Kikyasha,’” Miroku began, “but what you don’t know is just how _long_ they were together. They were an item when both of them _started_ in Hollywood. That was almost eight years ago, when they were both just twenty-year-old kids hungry for a career in showbiz.

  
“It was his agent that originally suggested it. They were fairly frequent costars even when their names didn’t carry any weight, and what better way to get the buzz going than some dating rumors? But then it turned real, and for a long time they were--”

  
“--the It Couple,” Sango interjected, “Everyone’s relationship goals.”

  
“Exactly,” Miroku said, sipping his champagne, “but that’s where it went wrong. Fame changes everybody in different ways, and that level of fame, with the awards and the private planes and the mansions, in a span of a few years...well suffice it to say, Inuyasha’s pretty much still the same guy he always was. An idiot, but a _cool_ idiot, you know?”

  
“And Kikyou’s a rich bitch,” Sango said tartly, “I had the pleasure of meeting her in person this afternoon.”

  
“Piece of work, ain’t she?” Miroku flashed her a grin, “And poor Kagome has been caught in the middle the whole time. Won’t ever turn down an order Kikyou gives her; it’s like she’s been _conditioned_ to act that way.”

  
“I like her a lot,” Sango confessed, “She’s already been a ton of help with handling things on Kikyou’s end of the scheduling.”

  
“Kagome’s a peach,” Miroku said, “If she were a little older and a little more wild, I’d be all over that.”

  
Sango glared at him. “Are you always this shallow, or am I just lucky to see this side of you?”

  
“I’m always like this, darlin. You should be flattered I like you enough to be frank with you.”

  
_Don’t you dare blush_ , Sango told herself. “Well, I think she’s lucky you aren’t trying with her. She’s got enough to deal with as it is.”

  
Miroku grinned and poured another glass of champagne from the huge bottle. “I avoid pursuing Kagome not out of the goodness of my heart, but because _someone_ would tear out my intestines if I did.”

 

* * *

 

 

“That was a great trick, by the way,” Kagome said, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter as she took a sip of the expensive champagne. She leaned back against the velvety surface of the booth, the drink obviously making her comfortable and at ease.

  
“What was?” Inuyasha asked, cigarette dangling from his lip. He was starting to feel drunker than he normally would at this point in the night, like maybe the booze was working better than usual to quiet his mind.

  
“The doorman,” she replied, grinning, “with the Judas Priest. I still can’t believe you actually agreed that ‘Sad Wings of Destiny’ was their best album. We’ve argued over this before.”

  
“I didn’t tell him that. Priest’s best album always was and forever will be ‘Painkiller.’ I just told the guy, ‘If the girl knows an answer, send her up, because she’s obviously the one I’m looking for.’”

  
Her eyes narrowed in mock annoyance. They were lined with black tonight, with just a smidge of gold at the corners. She’d gone to a lot of trouble. It looked great.

  
“What if some random chick had happened to know a Priest album?” she said, faking shock.

  
“Then I may be interested in getting to know her better. And you’d have to settle for waiting outside with the paps.”

  
“Oh, _please_ ,” she said, “Admit it. You missed me, just a little.”

  
This was bolder than she usually was; the champagne must be going to her head somewhat as well. Inuyasha inhaled another drag of his cigarette and went to ruffle her hair again. “I did.”

  
“And you’re going to be happy I’m here,” she said, slurring her words just a little as she took another gulp of champagne, “because you don’t have to face Kikyou alone through awards season.”

  
_She just had to go there, didn’t she?_ Inuyasha’s smile faded.

  
“So,” he said, eager to change the subject, “Any boyfriends since we last saw each other?”

  
Kagome coughed a little, looking almost puzzled, like the idea was foreign to her. Same old Kagome, no obvious interest in anyone, just work, work, work.

  
“Come onnnn,” Inuyasha said, nudging her a little, “No production assistants on your sister’s latest rom com to distract you?”

  
Kagome’s face reddened and she looked away. “No.”

  
_Well, so much for changing the subject and making it less awkward._

  
“How’s the photography stuff going?” _Should have asked that first, you asshole._ He could have kicked himself.

  
“I haven’t had time lately,” she said, brightening up a bit but still looking a little downtrodden, “Kikyou’s had a lot of events.”

  
God, why was this awkward? Not half a year ago they had been throwing popcorn at each other behind Kikyou’s back during movie night on the sofa.

  
A lot of things had changed. Kagome had changed. She looked...older, somehow. Less a punk ass kid and more a young woman.

  
Inuyasha wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  
“Does...Kikyou ever mention me?”

  
“She does,” Kagome said, sipping her drink again and apparently refusing to elaborate. Her phone buzzed in her lap. She stared down at it, hesitated, and turned the ringer off.

  
“It will be weird to see her,” he admitted, “I guess it’s always weird when you think you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with somebody, and…” He trailed off.

  
“Hey,” she said, holding up her champagne glass and turning to face him again, “You’re the most famous person in the history of, like, ever. You’ll get through this. And you’ll win a fucking _Oscar_.”

  
“Watch your goddamn mouth,” he grinned, “Let’s at least get through the Globes first.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So I’m sure you’re thinking the obvious,” Miroku said as Sango polished off her third (fourth?) glass of champagne.

  
“That you’ll return my company phone to me as soon as possible?” She wiped her mouth delicately.

  
“That we should combine forces for the next few months. I want my client to win all the awards, and your resume would look great if you got the studio multiple wins in your first year as a head agent.”

“Keep talking,” Sango said, motioning for Miroku to refill her glass.

“With my connections and your, shall we say, fresh new take on the biz, I’d say we could pull a clean sweep this season.”

  
“Speaking of which, have you even seen the movie?”

  
“No.”

  
“Well I have, and it’s not that great,” Sango said, “This is just between us, but the studio’s pulled it for a major hack job and recut. Apparently the performances are fine, but the plot’s a big fucking mess.”

  
“It’s not important,” Miroku said, lighting another cigarette, “All that’s important is the marketing, and the rest is just--wait, you got to see the _movie?_ ”

  
“Yes,” Sango blinked, “Last week.”

  
“What the hell? And I wasn’t even _invited?_ I didn’t know they were firing me until two days ago!” Miroku glared into the half-empty bottle of Dom on the table.

  
Sango awkwardly finished off her glass.

  
“Better slow down on that shit,” Miroku said, his tone coming off more snappish than he intended. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  
“Listen,” Sango said, her words beginning to run together, “I know you got fucked over. I get it. But I still have a job to do. And I have a plan for Oscar season that leaves us all smelling like roses.”

  
“Okay, you’re touching me in my nice places. Let me have it.”

  
Sango rolled her eyes. “Okay, so Kikyasha was the It Couple, right? Everyone obsessed with them, wanting to be them, et cetera?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“The press will care about this movie and so will the public if they think Kikyou and Inuyasha are getting back together.”

  
Miroku choked on his drink. “Are you absolutely _insane?_ ”

  
“It just has to look like it _might_ happen,” Sango mused, ignoring his overreaction, “A shining, beautiful reunion in front of the cameras. Whispers abounding that maybe, just maybe, true love might prevail after all.”

  
“So you want me to manipulate my client, one of my best friends of several years, into spending time with a woman whom we all know to be the spawn of Satan in hopes that she takes him back, all to promote a movie for awards season?”

  
Sango said nothing, just shrugged.

  
Miroku grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Babe,” he said, “You are speaking my language.”


	5. Victim of Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kagome and Kikyou have a very one-sided argument, and Sango reveals her amazing ability to hatch evil plans of doom.

**The It Couple**

**Chapter Five**

**Victim of Changes**

 

Kagome was well and properly drunk. And it was _fabulous_. She couldn’t remember the last time she had just let loose like this. Her shoes weren’t working, though. Weird. She decided to just carry them and walk barefoot.

  
She climbed out of the cab and pressed the gate code. _Why people in Bev Hills need driveways half a mile long I’ll never know,_ she thought as she stumbled forward. Oh well, she needed the exercise. Work off some of those champagne calories.

  
When she finally reached the front door, she was careful to tiptoe in after punching the second security code.

  
_No need to wake up--_

  
“Nice of you to join us.”

  
_Shit._

  
Kagome turned around, knowing what a shitshow she must look like. Kikyou was standing there in all her glory, white satin robe, hair in a towel, arms crossed.

  
“I’ve been waiting for you to dry my hair all night,” Kikyou said, her lips drawn into a thin line of fury.

  
_Well, we know that’s not true, her hair wouldn’t still be wet._ Kagome sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said gently, “The time got away from me. I was just continuing the meeting with Sango and with Inuyasha’s people--”

  
“You _what?!_ ” Kikyou shrieked, eyes wide, “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all night and you’ve been out partying? With _him?_ ”

  
“Kikyou, I just--”

  
“I can’t believe you! What’s _wrong_ with you lately?” And there came the tears. Kikyou flung herself onto the white chaise lounge, which couldn’t have been comfortable as it was sort of just for show.

  
“Kikyou--” Kagome said. No use.

  
“I just ask for your _help_ and I _tell_ you I can’t do any of this on my own and you _abandon_ me when I need you most!”

  
_That’s every single day. I get no days off, ever. I get no time to myself, ever._ Kagome was trying not to boil over.

  
“To go suck up to my ex-fiance, no less! Talk about family loyalty! What if someone saw you?” Kikyou just couldn’t let it rest.

  
Okay, Kagome was definitely drunk; Kikyou’s yelling never got her angry unless she was.

  
“Good night, Kikyou,” she said in a clipped tone, and stumbled toward her room.

  
“Where are you going?” Kikyou demanded, lifting her head up and calling down the hallway.

  
“I’m going to sleep!” Kagome snapped, opening the door and tossing her shoes to the floor. She was definitely going to hear about it in the morning, but right now she didn’t care.

  
Her phone buzzed, and for a moment she thought it was Kikyou (it was almost always Kikyou). But it was Inuyasha’s name that popped up, and she snatched it up and unlocked it to read the message.

  
_“Missed you, kiddo. Glad to catch up tonight. Hope to see you at Blades of Blood and Glory premiere next weekend. Bring your sister. Or don’t.”_ And a smile emoji.

  
She tossed the phone onto her bedcovers.

  
Sliding out of her dress, she took a second to stare at herself in the mirror. All she saw looking back in the dim light of her lamp was Kikyou’s face. Less chiseled, sure, less refined and aristocratic looking. Less like Hollywood royalty. Always the baby sister.

  
She turned off the lamp and threw herself into bed.

 

* * *

 

 

“You gonna be okay getting home?” Miroku said, “Or should we share a cab?”

  
“Are you kidding?” Sango slurred, “My brain’s too full of ideas right now. Let’s go to another bar.” She stumbled, knocking into him. “Damn shoes,” she said, “Sorry about that. Let’s go to another bar.”

  
“You already said that,” Miroku said.

  
“Well, I mean it.”

  
“It’s damn near 4 am, Sango. Bars usually close at _some_ point.”

  
“Then we’ll go to your place,” Sango said matter-of-factly, “We need to go over plans for the premiere next weekend. That movie. You know. What’s it called--”

  
“--’Blades of Blood and Glory?’”

  
“That’s the one,” she said, “It’s Inuyasha and Kikyou’s first time on the same red carpet in months, and we have to make it count.”

  
“You know,” Miroku said, propping her up slightly as she was teetering on her heels, “We _can_ discuss this in the morning when you’ve had some rest; it’s not illegal.”

  
“Don’t be condescending. This can’t wait. It’s too important.” She pulled away from him and stepped to the curb to hail a cab. “We’ll go to your place. Got any junk food?”

  
_I’ve created a goddamn monster_ , Miroku thought.

 

* * *

 

 

The house was so big and always seemed so empty whenever Inuyasha got home from the bar at night. Maybe that was why he avoided being alone at home whenever possible. Nazuna was long gone by now, as were the rest of the help, gone to the guest houses on the edge of the property.

  
The second he was inside, he did the traditional thing and went straight to the bar to pour another drink. Traditions were important, after all, even if they were only a few months old.

  
He poured himself two fingers of his ridiculously expensive whiskey (he supposed he could have done the cheaper stuff; after all, his senses were dulled enough by now that the taste wouldn’t have changed much) and sat on his leather couch in his giant living room, surrounded by his expensive things.

  
He’d at least had the sense to throw out that old photo of him and Kikyou a few weeks ago before Miroku saw it. Okay, so he’d thrown it out after finally tossing it across the room like a fucking NFL quarterback in the middle of the night, but the point was the same. No one else had to see that he was still a pathetic mess about the situation. No one had to know but him.

  
The photo had been of them on their engagement day. He’d proposed to her almost two whole years ago, in front of a room full of partygoers at her 26th birthday party. They’d just finished their second of four films together and were on top of the world--the “It Couple,” everyone called them, and he’d agreed with them.

  
And she’d accepted, making sure to get every angle possible of the ring in photos and acting like she was utterly thrilled.

  
Inuyasha buried his head in his hands. How could you want to be with someone and not even like them at the same time? It was all bullshit.

  
He glanced at his phone, downing the rest of his whiskey. Kagome had read his text about twenty minutes ago, but hadn’t replied. Probably asleep by now, poor girl. Kikyou was sure to give her an earful when she found out where Kagome had been.

  
Kagome. Same as always, just half a year older. And somehow that had made all the difference. It was still hard to reconcile the sight of her in a dress and heels. Kagome was and had always been just Kagome, for all eight years he’d known her. Where Kikyou was complicated and dramatic and kept him crawling back for more, Kagome was just easy hugs and smiles and unconditional friendship.

  
At least he had that, he supposed.

  
He picked up the remote to his sound system. “Play Judas Priest, ‘Victim of Changes,’” he said into the recorder, and the song began. He would go with Kagome’s preference on this tonight, even though she was wrong about this album being superior.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re not listening to me,” Sango said, looking up from her black planner where she was scribbling notes.

  
Miroku was rummaging around his record collection in the living room of his own spacious condo, perusing through the numerous titles looking for the perfect selection. “Gimme a second, jeez,” he muttered.

  
“I’m saying we arrange a reunion. In front of the cameras. On the red carpet. They’ll have to be on their best behavior! It’s perfect.”

  
“I hear you, I hear you.” Would Marvin Gaye be a little too obvious right now? Miroku supposed so. Otis Redding was at least a little more subtle. He pulled the record from the sleeve and stuck it on the turntable. _Perfect._

  
“Another drink, Sango?” he asked, heading to the kitchen.

  
“White wine, if you have it,” she said, not looking up, “We need to coordinate their outfits to match for the photos, but subtly, like it was an accident.”

  
“Were you always this mercenary?” Miroku asked, shaking his head and pouring the wine.

  
“Always,” she said, “I was just on my best behavior til I got to work for myself.”

  
Miroku shoved the cork back into the bottle. “Well, I’m happy to have obliged,” he said, fighting to keep the bitter edge out of his voice.

  
She looked up, her eyes meeting his. “I really am sorry,” she said softly.

  
“Wasn’t your fault,” he said, “I promise to stop bringing it up.” He walked over to the coffee table where she sat and handed her the glass, then sat on the couch next to her.

  
“So what do you think? About the slightly coordinated outfits? Just different shades of a similar color, maybe?”

  
“A little too obvious,” Miroku shook his head, “We play games with the press and they know it, but they don’t like it rubbed in their faces, if you get my meaning. Honestly, at this point, why not have everyone arrive at the premiere together? A large group of five or six. We could call Kouga’s people and have him bring a date.”

  
“So that would be…” Sango started scribbling, her long brown hair falling forward over her bare shoulders, “Inuyasha, Kikyou, Naraku, Kouga, Kouga’s plus one, and Kagome?”

  
“Not Kagome. She rides in the car, but she’s there to hold Kikyou’s dress for red carpets. She’s not officially a guest; doesn’t get dinner tickets or anything.”

  
Sango tapped her pen on her mouth with a frown. She needed to cut that out, it was driving him crazy. “Doesn’t seem fair, does it? She works just as hard as we do, and she’s in the back with the waiters.”

  
“It’s Hollywood, babe. Nothing’s fair unless you’re at the top of the totem pole, and Kagome’s there by proxy. Should be good enough for her that she gets the nice mansion digs and the expensive salary. I’ve never heard her complain.”

  
“I suppose.” Sango leaned back on the couch and crossed her legs, pen still in hand, “Well, I guess that covers everything for tonight. Guess I’ll call a cab.”

  
“Don’t bother, I’ll put you up in the spare bedroom.”

  
Sango gave a knowing smile and stood up. “Thanks, but no thanks. I am well aware of your reputation, Houshi.”

  
“Miroku.”

  
“I just think we should keep things professional, okay?”

  
“I completely agree,” Miroku said with a grin, “but if you ever change your mind let me know.”

  
Sango rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll just try to get a cab on my own, thanks. See you tomorrow, Houshi.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Heyyyy.”

  
Kagome’s eyes shot open. She was buried under her covers, in her own room, wearing her own pajamas. That was good.

  
Who the hell was in bed with her? And then Kagome felt long slender arms wrap around her shoulders, inhaled the smell of Chanel, and she knew.

  
“I’m sorry if I was a little moody last night,” Kikyou said, pressing her face into Kagome’s shoulder blade, “You know how I get anxious without you.”

  
“I know,” Kagome said with a soft sigh and a smile despite herself, “It’s okay.”  
“Did you have fun?”

  
“I did.”

  
“How...how was Inuyasha?”

  
“Looks good, considering,” Kagome murmured, keen to keep as much to herself as possible, “He asked after you. I told him you were happy.”

  
Kikyou was quiet for a moment. “Did you spend that whole time at the club with him?”

  
“Yeah. We just sat there for hours, catching up.”

  
“Did you dance with him?”

  
“Okay,” Kagome sat up and turned to face her sister, “What is this?”

  
Kikyou looked singularly innocent, her eyes wide. “I’m just curious. You used to tell me everything and I feel like you’re keeping things from me.”

  
Kagome sighed. “I’m not, I promise. Satisfied?”

  
“Yep!” Kikyou’s smile was bright. “Also, Kaede’s here and she says she’ll make scrambled eggs but I want you to do it. Yours are better.”

  
Kagome fought back a groan and slid out of the covers. “Anything else you need?”

  
“Oh, a grapefruit, halved, and a glass of mineral water,” Kikyou followed Kagome out of her own bedroom and continued into her own room across the hallway, “I’m going to lay down for a few more minutes; I’m just _exhausted_.”

 

* * *

 

 

Inuyasha woke to the sound of Nazuna entering through the side entrance and gave a very unbecoming snort of surprise. He was still sitting upright on the couch. The music had long since turned itself off, but his final glass of whiskey was still sitting unfinished on the coffee table in front of him.

  
“Mr. Takahashi, sir, you should really learn to get yourself to bed on time,” Nazuna said in her gently reprimanding way, “A good amount of sleep is necessary to function.”

  
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Inuyasha muttered, “I’m gonna take a shower. Has anyone called the house since last night?”

  
“Yes sir, you got a phone call from a Miss Higurashi early this morning. It sounded urgent.”

  
_Kagome called?_

  
Inuyasha immediately grabbed his phone, which was on around ten percent battery. He punched in her number and waited.

  
“...Hello?” He could hear what sounded like bacon frying in the background and supposed she was making breakfast.

  
“Hey,” he said. _Real suave there,_ he thought, _great opening line._ Maybe he should ask her to lunch today, just the two of them. An easier chance to catch up in a quieter place. A chance to get things between them back to the way they’d always been.

  
“Everything okay?” Kagome asked. She sounded confused.

  
“Everything’s fine,” he said, “I was just returning your call from this morning. Sorry, I was a little shitfaced and passed out. Sad state of affairs, huh?”

  
There was a pause on the other end. “Inuyasha, I didn’t call you this morning. I _knew_ you’d be asleep.”

  
“Then who the hell--oh.”

  
“I think you’re looking for my sister. Better give her a call, you know she hates to be kept waiting. Have a good day.” And she hung up.

  
What in the hell was going on.


End file.
